Fly Boys
by LadyNRA
Summary: Smith and Don go on the ride of their lives.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Fly Boys

**Author:** LadyNRA

**Rating**: Given for some minor violence and gore

**Spoilers**: None that I can think of

**Characters**: Primarily Dr. Zachary Smith and Major Don West

**Genre**: Action/Adventure

**Disclaimer**: The folks who created LIS, pure geniuses that they are, are responsible for everything on the show. I'm just having fun with the characters. They were spending entirely too much time cooped up on the Jupiter 2 or stranded on barren planets and it was time to set them free for a little while.

**Summary**: Smith and Don end up going on a wild ride.

**Author's Note: **This is all Nel's fault….lol. It came about because she was telling me Smith's Colonel uniform bore pilot's wings and suddenly the images herein came to mind. Hope you like it.

**FLY BOYS**

by LadyNRA

There were few things Doctor Zachary Smith enjoyed more than a stiff mind-numbing drink, unless one counted the company of a beautiful woman, strolling through an opulent mansion, sitting in a truly classy car driven at ridiculous speeds, or running one's fingers through a lacquered box heaped with precious gems. In absence of those things, the drink would certainly suffice.

Thin lips seemingly kissed the rim of the etched crystal goblet, a common commodity on this planet, as he drew in a small sip of the burning fuschia liquid. He felt it instantly race from stomach to heart, then pulse its way into his head which swam slightly from the beverage's assault.

Good stuff, he said to himself. "Excellent vintage," he told the bartender with a half smile. Truth was he had no idea what he was talking about. He couldn't have even told anyone what fruit it came from, let alone the year it was made or the process used to produce it for that matter.

The bartender wiped up spills from the gleaming green stone of the bar surface. He, or Smith assumed he...she...it, was male, rolled 'his' full contingent of twelve glistening yellow eyes in the doctor's direction. For the imposing being that was an impressive effort since his species was geared toward viewing surroundings from three sides.

What he didn't inform this funny looking alien, the first "Terran human" he'd ever seen in this sector of the galaxy, was that the fuchsia brew wasn't a 'vintage' at all, as most species understood the term. This was not from fruit or flower, vine or tree. It was actually more visceral than that. Literally. A hundred scaly V'nai'a, reptilian in nature and appearance, gave up their precious lives donating their primary toxin purging organs to make drunken and happy patrons even more drunk and happy.

"Stupid beings," the bartender muttered under his breath. "Never once pondering what they were drinking or what it was doing to their own toxin-purging organs." Briefly he wondered what this pink, nearly hairless, bizarre looking being would think of "donating" his innards to create someone else's beverage.

As if aware of the thoughts of the bartender, Smith drew back slowly. Even that small motion made him feel a bit dizzy and he gripped the edge of the stone with surprisingly strong fingers to steady himself. "Potent," Smith murmured as he slowly shook his head to clear it. The motion was merely a waste of energy. Pleasant sensations drifted across his tongue as he took one final finishing sip and he slammed the glass down harder than he'd intended.

Several heads, or what passed for heads, in the immediate vicinity swiveled his way. Most of the aliens in the area were far from humanoid. Multiple legs, arms, eyes seemed thrown together in a mind boggling assortment of life. Some Smith recognized from the Galorean Gem, the rug like creature that rippled as it moved, the jelly fish/octopus cross that reminded him of Ceph (a true friend if ever there was one), a furry serpent that moved like a Terran sidewinder, and the bipedal Bin'lat and their cousins who were, thankfully, not fighting at the moment.

Sprawled on nearby couches, the most common furniture because it could accommodate many species, were creatures like iridescent blue centipedes with huge serrated mandibles waving curious antennae in his direction. At least Smith hoped they were curious because the furious twitching was hard to decipher and he didn't want something that big and vicious looking pissed at him. A fair representation of the earthlike leafy sea-dragon gave him a wide berth and through some means indecipherable to him, ordered an amber bubbling liquid. Blunt muzzle plunged into the drink for a few seconds and Smith caught sight of a needle thin tongue darting back and forth in the beverage.

A few other drinks were served as he pondered whether or not to order another libation for himself. These new concoctions, hissed or glowed or frothed and one even whistled, a high pitched keening that bothered the doctor's ears. Something was passed almost beneath his nose. It was brown and viscous and spluttered like the sphincter in The Bog of Eternal Stench from the movie Labyrinth. Although one couldn't actually experience such a putrid smell while merely watching the movie, Smith imagined it smelled exactly like this. He felt his gorge rise and bile fill his throat. The drink vanished soon after and he heaved a sigh of relief as his nausea immediately resolved itself.

Smith waited a few seconds more, still undecided about tempting fate with another round, when a firm hand clamped painfully over his shoulder. The surprise had him gasping out loud although, surprisingly, he didn't shriek. Heck, he was feeling no pain and an equal absence of fear.

Glancing over his shoulder, a move that actually did make the room spin for a second, he caught sight of a familiar face. Groaning with more animosity than alarm, Smith muttered, "Major West, how lovely to find you here. Now, as you can see, I'm perfectly safe, so why don't you run along home like a good little boy."

West's brows knit together and he opened his mouth to say something nasty but then thought better of it. Smith's 'skin' was too tough to be swayed or affected by insults under the best of circumstances and the Major realized, given the goblet count in front of the man, that Smith would probably be impervious to bullying or orders...or threats for that matter. That left him one choice, physical persuasion.

Grasping a fistful of the doctor's black velour shirt, West tugged hard enough to get the doctor's attention. All he got for his effort was a twisted smile and a view of heavy lidded bloodshot blue eyes.

"Go away Major," Smith slurred. He opened his mouth to say more, but Don cut him off.

"Yeah yeah, I know...'You irk me'," West finished for him.

A tiny hint of a smile tipped up both corners of the doctor's mouth. "Actually, I was going to say, 'you bore me' but yours will do nicely." He pointed over his shoulder. "The exit is that way I believe."

"No can do, Smith," growled Don. A few appendages or were they heads, Don couldn't be sure, swiveled in their direction at the aggressive tone. Lowering his voice and tempering his tone, the Major explained, "The professor just finished refueling and I just completed restocking our supplies, no thanks to you I might add, so it's time to go." He put a little more emphasis, accompanied by an appropriate shove, on the last word.

Studying the hard, intense look in those brown eyes did the trick. Smith sighed loudly but turned from the bar on wobbly legs. With an obviously determined effort he regained his balance. But then he halted abruptly as a blue skinned but obviously female centaur wearing a glittering gold beaded belt around her torso parted the crowd. She wore absolutely nothing above the waist. Her extraordinarily amble bosom was just even with Smith's line of sight. With a lazy, vaguely drunken grin, the doctor studied this particular vision of loveliness for so long that the female got annoyed. One mulit-jointed, seven fingered hand flew through the air and predictably collided, quite intentionally, with Smith's face.

Smith released a short girlie gasp, did an impressive and comical 360, and only then did he stumble. Unfortunately, West's efforts to prevent just that failed miserably. In fact, it exacerbated the problem and as Smith veered sideways he inadvertently stomped on one black glistening tentacle.

The recipient of such unwanted attention blasted out an ear splitting squeal from hidden mouth-parts and released a horribly foul stench from equally hidden and unimaginable parts.

All around them, a cacophony of sounds arose in tandem with the tentacled being's siren cry and equally obnoxious stenches permeated the air.

"Time to go, Smith," hollered West. He'd been in enough barroom brawls on earth to know this volatile situation could go from bad to downright ugly and the question was could they get out before it got that far.

Surprisingly, Smith didn't argue. Though the major didn't know it, Smith had gone to enough bars and saloons with his Air Force buddies to know a hazardous situation when he saw it. Tipsy or not, he knew it was time to make an expeditious exit. What he didn't anticipate was stepping on another tentacle on the way out. Sadly the tentacle belonged to the same creature, which appeared to be part anemone considering the number of appendages it bore. Another shrill cry and cloud of odoriferous gas filled the room.

A tentacle flashed out, intended for Smith's face. That much was obvious to Don. What surprised him was how quickly Smith ducked and dodged out of the way. However, he didn't have much time to ponder how a seemingly inebriated Doctor Smith could move that fast because the flying tentacle, displaying nasty barbed hooks inside its suckers, struck a creature that looked like a moving pine sapling. The sucker barbs gouged in and stuck. The small 'tree' whipped it's 'branches' in an attempt to dislodge the barbs, which not only pulled over the anemone but also smacked a frilled dragon reclining on a couch. The beast hissed, flashed half a dozen rows of razor sharp teeth, and pounced on the tree, its clawed hind legs digging huge gouges out of the 'bark'. Green ichor started to flow. The tree started to gyrate; bare branches flung outward, hitting several more species in close proximity provoking yet more hostility. Something else with crooked crystal for dentition sank said teeth into a furry serpent.

The poor victim of the attack flared out impossibly long dripping fangs and swiped at glass gullet who somehow avoided the attack. But the orange furred serpent wasn't easily deterred. It struck again, snagged a leathery flipper despite repeated attacks by glittering teeth. With a mighty bunching of reptilian muscles and a whipping of its head, it managed to fling its victim up and over the bar, right into the face of the gaping bartender. All of its eyes bugged out. That beast puffed itself up to twice its size, short wormy hairs all over its lumpish body standing straight out. Then it hurled the flippered alien back into the growing melee which was now blocking the exit.

It landed right at Smith and Don's feet. Smith's white rimmed eyes darted fearfully in all directions. "Trapped," he howled at West. "Doomed," he added if only because it was expected, but given the sight of the battles around him, he honestly felt that way.

"Not yet, we're not," Don assured him before giving his back a shove toward the door.

"Not that way you sadistic simpleton!" shrieked Smith. "They'll shred your sorry carcass long before you get half way there!"

West veered and waved a fist under Smith's nose. "They'll rip us up and spit us out if we stay here. Now move!" He snagged the sleeve of Smith's shirt then dragged the reluctant and protesting physician after him.

"Oh the pain," yowled Smith as something rigid and bulbous slammed into his back.

"Don't start, Smith!" Don yelled back, having heard that at least a thousand times before.

"Ow!" was the reply and that did get the Major turning around. Something like a plesiosaur was trying to clamp its jaws around Smith's head. It clearly hadn't succeeded although the doctor's scalp was bleeding profusely from somewhere above his receding hairline. A red river was trickling down the side of his face and throat. Somehow the doctor had managed to avoid getting decapitated but the creature was either very angry or very hungry (in that environment it was hard to tell which) and made another attempt.

To Don's complete astonishment, Smith grabbed branches of the already irate Tree creature, yanked it toward him and half-hauled half-swung it at the plesiosaur. Massive, powerful jaws bit down on nothing but wood. Only this wood had sensation of some sort. Branches slapped at the pointed snout and the saurian tried to release its hold. Don and Smith didn't bother to wait to see what ensued.

Both humans bolted through a crowd of combatants. Don's fists were like pistons, pummeling anything in his way. Smith was virtually plastered to his back in an attempt to avoid being beaten up himself. Grunting under the impacts, the Major was drawing closer and closer to the point of egress.

Another blue-skinned big breasted female alien towered over them, this one bigger than the first. Don stumbled in front of her and went down to one knee, Smith almost stepping on him, such was his surprise at the sudden movement. The blue female tried to get out of their way but as she backed up, she found Smith falling forward, right into the narrow area between her overly large, round breasts. She found herself with a chest full of human face and Smith found himself surrounded by unnaturally warm and firm mounds of flesh. Had it been any other day and any other time, preferably one with more leisure time and less violence occurring around them, he would have been blissfully happy with this predicament. As it was, he tried to gently extricate himself without giving offense but strongly suspected there was no way to do it. If he'd bet on it, he would have won big time. Before he got out of reach, she tried to slam him by boxing his ears with two enormous hands. Instead of backing up successfully, he tottered unsteadily, and fell into another blue skinned alien, male this time. The creature's four clawed limbs angrily stomped the floor and both fists balled. He was joined by others closer to the door. None of them looked pleased.

"Oh great," said a distressed Major West as he took note of the approaching danger. "Smith, when I say run, don't even bother to ask how fast. Got me?"

"Absolutely, Major. Lead the way." With that said, Smith once again immediately wedged himself as close to Don as he could without actually tripping the man in the process. Less than a second later, as the hostile forces gathered around them, Don made a break for the door. Smith howled as alien hands grabbed him. Don grabbed a pedestal table with both hands and swung it side to side with all his might at the torsos of the blue centaur-like beings. Releasing Smith, they backed up but they were not happy about it.

As Don and Smith dove into the street the combatants poured out after them, some ending up in a puddle of limbs and mouths and writhing non-human bodies. Others remained upright and carried on the fight under the glory of brilliant street lights. The 'centaurs' ignored them. They had one prey in mind. Their almond orange parrot eyes searched the crowd.

Smith gasped for breath but Don wouldn't let him rest. The doctor took a few staggering steps as his body poured more adrenalin into his veins. He'd seen the centaurs coming and knew precisely who they were after. His rubbery legs were taking more assured steps. Fear drove the booze out of his body far better than any full carafe of coffee ever could. He grew steady and as the aliens began advancing on them. His first tentative running steps became sure and sound.

Within seconds, Smith and West found themselves tearing through brightly lit avenues. Smith took the lead and Don tried arguing but for some reason Smith wouldn't listen to reason.

"The Jupiter 2 is THAT way, Smith!"

"Thank you so much for supplying directions Major but my internal GPS says go this way." He panted loudly and moaned a bit with the effort.

"But the Jupiter 2 is..." Don repeated.

"We'll never get there before those monolithic monstrosities catch us. And... I happen to know something...you don't. Actually... I happen to know a lot of things you don't but we...won't go into it now..." Despite the obvious breathing difficulties, he never slowed down.

"So where...?" Don jogged along beside the older man. It was clear from the look on his face that he didn't like trusting Smith in anything let alone this.

"Enough talk..." wheezed the doctor but he didn't slow. He took a quick look over his shoulder, noting that the enemy was rapidly gaining. Quickly, his head pivoted forward again. He almost tripped as a wave of dizziness overtook him. Blasted drink really was strong, he thought ruefully as he regained his balance. If I survive this, I swear I shall never partake of it again. At least not in a social setting, he amended with an unconscious smirk.

Not knowing where the doctor was heading, Don was keeping pace with him. When Smith veered to the left around a corner, the Major simply mimicked him. The angry noises of their pursuers were definitely closer. A few more steps and the short street opened up to what humans would have considered an airstrip. It was filled with short range aircraft of all types. Most of the vehicles, reportedly equipped with anti-gravity propulsion, weren't designed to do more than hover from ground level up to about thirty feet. Given that the city buildings frequently topped one hundred stories or more, the craft was clearly not going to give them a bird's eye view. However, Don was forced to admit it was a quick way to get to the interstellar space port. If luck continued, the vehicle would have its own version of a global positioning device and they could return to the Jupiter 2 quickly. The only problem, which he refused to voice, was that he had never flown such a vehicle. Oh sure, he knew he'd pick it up quickly, but he didn't relish smacking into buildings in the midst of training. Worse, Smith would never let him live it down. But there was nothing else to do but attempt it.

The blue skinned beings were caterwauling with anger and virtually breathing down human necks. Smith once more bolted left and began to climb into the cockpit of a vehicle that vaguely resembled a Terran fighter jet. After slipping a few times he managed to get himself situated. In the front seat.

"Hey!" Don yelled though he didn't waste time arguing until he plopped into the seat directly behind the doctor. "You're going to get us killed." In anger he slammed the back of the seat with the palm of his hand. What he hadn't stopped to ponder, at least not right away, was that this cockpit complete with a 'joystick' yoke seemed designed for humanoids of a similar head height and width.

"Major, do you mind!" Smith angrily snarled. There was the sound of toggles and switches clicking and melodic tones as computer consoles were activated plus the thump thump of fingers tapping on said consoles. Images and an alien language instantly flashed up on the lower half of the windshield.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The heavy canopy settled over them far too slowly. While hastily strapping in, Don could hear their pursuers trilling and howling like Native American war parties on the old Westerns. The main difference was that these warriors were a helluva lot bigger and possessed scythe-like claws on all four feet and hands that could grip knife blades longer than his arm.

Before the Major could protest they were airborne. He was distracted by the voice of his companion calling out from the front seat. "Up up and away Major!" and suddenly the vehicle rocketed upward so fast that Don's stomach momentarily wondered why it was looking skyward and getting left behind. Then, like a slingshot it leapt up and slammed back into Don's abdomen. The pilot was used to rapid acceleration but not like this. His hand instinctively rested against the taut muscles of his belly.

Finally, as the awful sensation eased, he did what every parent does when their kid is behind the wheel for the first time and about to lose control. But instead of trying to grab an invisible steering wheel or stomp on a non-existent brake pedal, he instinctively and futilely groped for a joystick and rudders that simply weren't there. Realizing how helpless he truly was, he grasped for any handhold in the narrow confines of his compartment and failing miserably, he started bashing the seat in front of him to get his companion's attention. At least that was what he told himself. In reality he was just pissed and needed to take it out on the hide of his tormentor. He whammed the heel of his palm into the headrest but it didn't seem to budge.

By that point, the ship's propulsion system, whatever type it was, kicked in and they barreled forward so fast that the buildings began to whiz by in a blur. Don's head was flung back into his own head rest.

As the shock wore off, he kicked out at the seat rails in front of him and hollered one word. Predictably it was "Smith!"

"Really Major, no need to act like a child."

The level, condescending tone of Smith's voice provoked the expected result. Don punched the back of the seat again. And once more the smooth voice drifted back. "Tsk, tsk, it's a time out for you when we get back young man."

"IF we get back," growled West, loud enough for Smith to hear. "IF you don't kill us both on the way there."

"Never Fear, Smith is Here!" chuckled the older man as he yanked the joystick hard to the right, swinging them around a corner in a manner that made Don flinch.

"That's what worries me," he griped but noise from behind him suddenly snapped his attention elsewhere. He tried craning his neck to see behind him but he didn't dare undo the safety harness. Shifting his whole torso to the point where it screamed in discomfort, he managed to catch the pursuing ships out of the corner of his eye. They were keeping pace but not closing the distance. Smith had taken to performing sharp turns down side streets to shake them but it wasn't working.

"I'm not joking Smith," Don finally told him, "you are going to hit something and that will be the end of us."

"These vessels are equipped with shields. The worse that will happen is we'll ricochet off the walls like a giant superball."

"And end up with broken bones, concussions and internal hemorrhage anyway."

"You know Major; we really should stop 'hanging out' together. You're starting to sound like me." He paused as if in thought, which he was. "And I have decided I honestly don't like it."

Another sharp jolt turned them inexorably toward the spaceport. Smith tapped one round illuminated button and the display flashing onto the bottom right of the windshield changed. There was a short grunt of affirmation, or maybe it was surprise. In either case, their course didn't vary for several blocks.

Then came a surprise maneuver. Smith dove down without warning, performed a few more quick course adjustments and forced the ship under a low and very ancient looking bridge. They hovered there, the bubble of the canopy almost touching the huge square stones overhead. Occasionally red flashes, pale and faint, fanned out, letting Don see the shields in action.

Although the propulsion unit was functioning loud enough to hum in the enclosed space, it was still relatively quiet and Don took the time to ask, "Since when did you learn to fly this thing?" He drew a breath and added, "It's not like we've been here that long." The contemplative tone vanished and he added, "And more to the point how did you pay for lessons?"

"I took no lessons, Major." The doctor's tone was haughty yet held just a trace of amusement.

"You didn't." It was half comment half question.

"No." Succinct and to the point.

"Then how-" West never finished his thought. The nose of a familiar vessel floated down directly in front of them, blue faces pushed nearly flat against their canopies. Mouths displaying considerable canines opened and multi-jointed forefingers pointed at the hidden ship.

"Uh-oh," both humans said in tandem.

Smith jammed the throttle forward with his free hand, and the ship shot forward. Only self preservation and surprise on the part of the centaurs sent the three enemy ships parting like the oft used analogy of a knife through butter. Before they could recover, Smith was disappearing around the edge of a building.

Laying aside his concerns West had to ask, "Okay, I give up. If you didn't take lessons then how did you-"

"The arcades," supplied Smith after executing another neat evasive maneuver.

"Arcades?"

"The planet offers many forms of entertainment and they have impressive arcades."

Don's frown was evident in his voice, "What does that have to do with..." he stopped and rolled his eyes. "Oh no, don't tell me."

"Precisely. Flight simulators. Realistic ones at that." There was the sound of additional instruments being activated or perhaps deactivated. "Superior in fact. Crafted to enhance the training experience and make it feel realistic. And obviously it worked, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh great, my life is in the hands of a drunken fool who learned to fly on video-games."

"Only mildly inebriated if you must know and to be honest, attacks on one's person does wonders in ensuring immediate sobriety."

All West could do was grunt. He'd been there often enough in his youth to know that was usually true. Of course, the hangovers still came around later, plus all the additional pain from the brawl bruises, but at least he had survived whatever battles he'd ended up in in the first place.

The vast inhabited area nearest the space port extended for miles, comprised mostly of the oldest sections of the city. The buildings were not quite as high, fifty stories at best. The streets were an uneven, non-linear warren of ancient asphalt avenues topped by bridges and walkways that linked some of the structures.

As the space between the buildings narrowed, Smith grew more cautious until he became aware that their pursuers were very close. These vessels were all unarmed. At least he hoped as much, and so far no one had taken a shot at them. So he presumed the aliens would tail the two humans until both men landed and pounce on them then. Which meant he still had to give them the slip. If he didn't get rid of them they'd never have enough time to complete the final mad dash into the safety of the Jupiter 2.

That, sadly, meant one thing. He was going to have to put some of the fancy maneuvers he'd played with in the simulator into practice. Avoiding viral bad guys at high speeds in make-believe maze of rocks and tunnels in a game was one thing. This was something else entirely, even if they had shields to protect them.

Goosing the accelerator, Smith dove through streets that steadily grew even narrower but their pursuers weren't giving up. He grew hesitant. This was so not his style. He was the 'walk in the park', out for a Sunday drive, kind of guy and their current rate of speed was certainly elevating his blood pressure and adrenalin levels. He could say one thing for certain. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Smith had little time to dwell on his inner discomfort however. The three vessels behind them managed to draw even closer as if the pilots weren't even remotely frightened by the prospect of smearing their body parts all over the ancient glass and stone structures around them. The shields were good, he knew that much, but they weren't _that_ good. Maybe he could-

As if reading his mind, Don called out from the back seat. "Don't do anything stupid, Smith. Stay calm. They don't have any interest in killing themselves for the sake of paybacks."

"They will take as many risks as they want if they believe their shields provide complete protection," the doctor explained. He allowed a scheming tone to enter his voice. "Of course, if we can seriously jostle their ships, any damage to the interior might corrupt the shielding controls. Then they'd end up unprotected and far less inclined to risk their lives.

Immediately after that, as if the enemy had devices that let them tune in on Smith and West's conversation, the centaurs picked up the pace and positioned themselves above and just behind the humans. It was obvious a few seconds later, as the shields sparked and hummed in protest, that the blue skinned creatures were trying to force them down to ground level.

Smith's knee-jerk reaction wasn't long in forthcoming. He howled half in fear and half in protest and somehow managed to evade them down another side street.

"Oh, so you want to play that way?" the doctor hollered out at them. He swiped the back of one hand across his forehead to keep stinging sweat from getting into his eyes. Soon they caught up to him again and repeated their maneuvers. "I've had enough of this," he told them and before Don could prepare, he slammed on the reverse thrusters, bringing their ship to a near stop. All three pursuing vessels zoomed around and past them. In the brief interim, while he still had surprise on his side, Smith did an impressive lateral 180 and pushed the ship back up the street before cutting left.

Too stunned by the maneuver, the centaurs wasted some time recovering their equilibrium in their ships. The small hover craft were versatile and designed to handle a variety of body types, but only if the pilots took the time to adapt the interior to said bodies. The centaurs hadn't bothered in the heat of pursuit. The vessels were generally very stable under most flight conditions and they'd assumed, incorrectly, that the Terrans ahead of them would only head forward. Therefore, as the Terran pilot came to what any human would call a screeching halt, the centaurs were totally unprepared for this maneuver. So overcome by fury at how hard they had to work to capture their prey, they hadn't anticipated such a maneuver. They attempted to slow down just as abruptly. Quadruped bodies, not properly strapped in, slid forward until all of them were face-planted against the windshields.

Moaning in pain and screeching in even greater rage, they struggled to turn about and give chase again. That gave the humans a slight advantage. But only a tiny one.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Smith was flying by the seat of his pants and only had a vague notion of where the space port was. The pursuing aliens didn't care as long as they caught up and they did so quickly. Within about 90 seconds, Smith and West were aware of their presence.

"What I wouldn't give for a rear-facing laser canon right about now!" muttered Smith though taut lips.

"For once I agree with you!" Don replied tersely.

"Spilled milk, and all that…" the doctor told him. "Hang on."

Don's voice pierced the interior of the cockpit. "What are you—" but he had no time to finish as Smith dove under an aging glass enclosed, rusted walkway between two structures. The aliens were forced to follow single file.

Then he pinned them back in their seats as he rose as high as the ship would allow, flew over another bridge, immediately bore down toward street level again and managed to right the vessel just as it about to drill down into whatever passed for pavement down there.

Don's groans of apprehension and helplessness rolled forward.

"Never—"

"Don't you dare say it!" warned West who was a far more experienced pilot and not liking this situation one bit.

"If I don't say it, Major, my current internal fortitude will evaporate and you wouldn't want that, would you?"

There was a loud sigh from the back seat. "Fine, I'll even say it for you if it'll keep us from getting killed." And he proceeded to do so through gnashing teeth.

"Thank you," Smith replied somewhat humbly as he jerked the joystick right, putting them into a tight corkscrew though a narrow alley. Shield alarms were blaring loudly at this insult to the equipment. Like giant bumper cars, they were rebounding off of walls and Don considered it a miracle that they stayed airborne. But he wasn't complaining because they were still ahead of their pursuers who were probably getting banged around even worse. Their vessels were larger after all. No centaur could fit into the narrow cockpit of this smaller, lighter, flier.

Smith took them down a blind alley, found nothing but the wall of a ten story building ahead of him and repeated his early trick. He got them as vertical as the vessel would allow, just barely cleared the rooftop as the engines protested the less-than-standard maneuver, and then fought to level out. Luckily it worked for them, but, apparently, not for centaurs.

Behind them, they heard some loud metallic screeches, ear splitting whines, and thunderous thuds. Just as Don expected, the bigger ships weren't faring well in such narrow confines and he hoped all three ships were now out of commission. It also dawned on him that Smith wasn't as nearly as stupid as Don thought he was. Their smaller size and greater maneuverability were working to his advantage.

That 'advantage' didn't work for long. One hovercraft hadn't survived the impact which was the good news. But the other two, one of which was clearly damaged and probably missing shields, still pursued them with dogged determination. Worse, the tight confines of the old city gave way to a clear view of the space port. No place to hide and no way to use trickery to take them down like he had with the first one.

In the front seat, there were the noises of what Don could have sworn were mild expletives but he didn't think he was hearing correctly and immediately discounted it as his imagination. But then again…

At that moment, West knew he was right. "Double damn!" yelled Smith as the centaurs bore down and them and the undamaged ship once more tried to force them to land. "So not going to happen!" the doctor yelled upward at the red glowing shield and the bottom of the enemy's ship.

The only problem, as far as Don could see, was that there were only wide airfields below them for parking mass transit hovercraft, a small rail system and cars that probably hauled various commodities throughout the vast city, including a tunnel connecting transit area and space port, and a wide body of water just ahead. Beyond that were the glaring lights and an enormous assortment of interstellar ships. Each one sat on a landing pad which allowed for egress via ramps or gantries depending on the design. No clear sight of the Jupiter 2 however.

"I think it's that way," Don began and Smith saw a finger over his shoulder just in his peripheral vision. "About two o'clock."

The ship above slammed down on them again, the shields protesting mightily, lighting up the area around them. "I do believe that blue behemoth has other ideas," Smith stated, far too calmly for West's liking. "However—" he started to say, drawing the word out with pensive reflection, then shut up with an audible click of his teeth.

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Don groaned loudly.

"Not a bit," Smith confirmed succinctly and without further explanation.

It didn't take long to figure out what he was going to do. The nose of the ship dropped precipitously and they dove toward the single orange hole at the river's edge.

"Are you crazy?" howled the Major, not bothering to hide his dismay.

The doctor's voice was still surrealistically sedate. "At the moment? Absolutely! And desperate too, if you must know. We need to get rid of him…them…before we land or they'll jump us as soon as we exit."

Within seconds they sliced through the artificially illuminated night sky and into the more somber orange glow of tunnel lights. Their ship, thanks to its jet-like design, sans the enormous wingspan, slipped into the tube without triggering the shields. On the downside, there was very little room for error. Once Smith veered about two feet over to the right and the shield glowed. They were jostled slightly and the doctor had to fight to keep from ricocheting off the other side and he compensated. Fortunately, his steady surgeon's hands didn't shake on the joystick as they plunged forward.

"Uh, Smith? I don't think they are following us," West reported. "They probably knew they were too big for the tunnel and are just flying over us. I'll bet you they will be waiting on the other side. Or they'll do the divide and conquer thing and cover both ends."

Smith let out a snort of derision. "I was counting on that. That's why we'll play chicken." He throttled way down, eventually bringing the ship to a stationary hover about 10 feet in from exit point of the tunnel. He killed all exterior lights with the pressing of a button, and with one hand still wrapped out the stick, leaned back.

After a minute of complete silence, West whispered in a barely audible voice. "This isn't my definition of "playing chicken," He didn't know why he whispered. It wasn't likely that their attackers would hear them, but to him, silent running still meant no talking.

"Au contraire, my dear Major," was the equally soft reply. "Wait for it."

At that moment, the pursuers made their appearance at the mouth of the tunnel. The sporadic glow from the dim bulbs in the tunnel wasn't enough to hide the human's hovercraft but the enemy also couldn't come in after them. Slowly Smith edged forward and stopped again. Don could hear him breathing heavily as if had just sprinted a mile. "Wait for it," he repeated again and then a third time.

Suddenly, the tunnel around them blazed to life as Don felt an earthquake-like rumble in the space around them. And instantly he knew what it was. The rail engine, hauling empty boxcars ready to be loaded with supplies came thundering down the tube. Not expecting anything to impede its progress, it never slowed down.

"SMITH!" Yelled Don in spite of knowing what was about to happen.

The doctor hit the throttle and shot forward like an enormous projectile with the 'train' only about ten yards behind them. Without a moment's hesitation, he dove right for the waiting Centaurs then yanked back on the joystick the moment they cleared the tunnel. Fortunately for the two humans, the aliens predictably, instinctively, veered out of the way. The Centaurs might have willingly squared off against the smaller, lighter hovercraft but the train was a totally different matter.

Instantly, Smith leveled it out and charged toward where Don had previously indicated the Jupiter 2 should be. In less than a minute they spotted it, a silver disk sitting in the center of a cream colored bulls eye. The view screens were wide open. The stairs were lowered but no one was in sight, which wasn't bad news since Professor Robinson would never have left the ship open and unguarded. Somewhere, inside the small saucer, lay salvation.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

After his performance in the headlong flight through the city, it was a small matter to land the hovercraft exactly where he wanted it. Smith placed it safely away from the take off zone but close enough to bolt inside if they had a head start. He knew they'd need it. Don had just reported that one of the alien vessels wasn't far behind and the other one, still in the distance, was closing said distance quite rapidly. Don had taken to muttering "hurry, hurry" repeatedly, which only ruined Smith's concentration.

"Don?" Smith said in a sickly sweet voice.

"Yeah?" The use of his first name stopped the pilot's mutterings immediately.

The doctor's tone remained sugary as he said, "Would you be so kind as to _shut up_ so I can think."

In the ensuing silence, Smith's overwrought memory darted about a few seconds trying to recall the location of the open-canopy button. "Ah-hah, there you are," he said smugly to himself and depressed the button. The canopy swung up and back far too slowly for his taste but he was already releasing his harness and preparing to vacate the cockpit. As soon as his feet hit the ground he heard Don drop down beside him and the two men began to run for the steps.

They didn't get more than half way there when the Centaurs galloped out of their own vessel and charged at them. Their greater height, longer legs and bigger muscles helped them close the gap quickly. Knives were once more flashing in their fists. The second ship was fast approaching but clearly wasn't going to join the festivities on time unless the two humans put up a prolonged fight which, in the minds of the closer aliens, wasn't going to happen.

As soon as Smith correctly assessed the situation, he made his mad dash toward the safety of his 'people' and his ship. Then he heard a noise behind him, a human grunt of pain. He slid to a halt, not an easy thing to do on the tarmac, and glanced over his shoulder, only to see Major West down on both knees on the ground. Don was reaching back to grasp one ankle and he was struggling to stand. Not more than 50 paces behind him were the Centaurs who looked ready and willing to kill any stragglers before they got to Smith himself.

Then several thoughts zipped around his head. Logical thoughts. If West was injured then Robinson would get Smith to help fly the Jupiter 2 along with all the extra work that entailed. If West was too hurt to do heavy lifting, Smith would get pushed into helping. If anything broke down and West was still incapacitated, Smith would get drafted.

And then yet another thought, an uncomfortable one, barraged his already racing mind. The doctor realized he actually admired the man. More than that he trusted him with his life, completely, without equivocation. And finally, although he would never admit it to a living soul, he actually liked Don, much to his chagrin. Liked him too much, in fact, to abandon him to a painful fate.

Therefore, on one hand, he could help Don and have everyone wondering about his sudden altruism. Or he could maintain his 'image', thinking only of himself, which would mean leaving Don to get beaten to a pulp by crazed Centaurs, and ultimately end up forced to work like a slave. That thought chilled him to the bone. No, no, Zachary, couldn't have that, can we? he told himself. And so he made his choice.

All of these ruminations took no more than a second's time inside that agile mind. The doctor looked longingly at the ship and back at Don. Pivoting deftly for an older man, he rushed back the few steps toward his companion who was still getting up. Smith snagged the solid upper arm and literally jerked West fully upright.

As he did so, he growled, "Major, please cease your lollygagging! Those blue behemoths will be upon us in mere moments and I for one have no desire to be here when they reach this spot." Then, without releasing the arm he half coaxed, half dragged the limping Jupiter 2 pilot toward the stairs.

Fortunately for the humans, the cavalry arrived in the form of Professor Robinson and his wife Maureen, along with young Will behind them. They quickly jogged to the base of the steps but didn't set foot on the tarmac. All three of them were armed and if Smith didn't have appearances to maintain, he would have joyously hugged all three of them, _after_ they were safe of course. Instead, he and Don stood just below them and turned to face their attackers.

Seeing the laser weapons, the three Centaurs stopped immediately. The biggest one pointed at the humans on the steps and said through his translator device which was worn over his pointed ears, "Projectile and energy weapons are strictly forbidden on this world. Use them against us and you will end up incarcerated." He didn't, however, move closer.

"All weapons are forbidden on the _soil_ of this world," John informed him. I am not yet on the ground. And if you take one more step toward my crew members, I assure you I won't hesitate to use them for our own protection. Then we'll just let the authorities decide who was right and who was wrong." The implied threat included the possible 'imprisonment' of the Centaurs as well as the humans. John saw this recognition race across the broad bestial blue face. He shifted the weapon into his shoulder as a warning. The leader glanced back at his companion and the other ship about to land and made his decision. He waved the other vessel away and restored the knife to its sheath.

"Lucky creatures," he told John. "But not so lucky next time you are here, yes?"

"Don't be so sure of yourself," John told him coldly. He never did like threats. The alien raised his spiky eyebrows as if weighing the Professors words. Without further comment he turned and went back to his own ship, his companion following behind him.

Once the Centaur's hovercrafts were over the water, John turned to his two wayward shipmates. "So, who wants to explain what happened?"

Don opened his mouth first just to get it over and done with quickly. "It's simple. Picture this. Smith in bar, feeling no pain. I find him. We try to leave. Smith steps on tentacle as usual—"

"Major, really!" Smith replied in indignation.

Ignoring him, Don went on. "Creature unhappy. Creature lashes out. Starts widespread brawl." John was beginning to smile, as was his wife and son but he didn't interrupt.

"Smith ends up with face full of alien boobage, naturally."

"How dare you!" growled the doctor. The smiles were widening on the others.

"She gets pissed…naturally. Fight shifts toward us. Smith bolts for the door…"

"Naturally," John says with an obvious smirk.

"Unfair," bleats Dr. Smith, looking seriously affronted.

"Smith steals a hovercraft or whatever those things are called here."

"Naturally," John said again. He'd seen Smith exit the craft and had assumed the front seat was for the pilot of said hovercraft.

"We end up here after a chase worthy of the Star Wars films. Lots of near misses along the way -" Don drew a breath to continue.

Smith drew himself up to his full height and threw back his narrow shoulders. "Don't you dare say 'Naturally', Major! You've insulted my person enough for one day, thank you very much. Kindly be grateful I got your mangy hide back here in one piece!"

John cut off the traditional tirade. "Look there's a possibility they'll be back, so I guess it's time we leave."

"Naturally," whispered Smith with a soft fatalistic sigh. Without further conversation he followed the others up the stairs and into the safe haven of their ship.


End file.
